


A case of cardio

by Tipofmytongue



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Crimes & Criminals, Doctor/Patient, Embarrassment, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Friendship, Friendship/Love, Love, M/M, Murder, Secrets, Sex, Sherlock Holmes & John Watson Friendship, Sherlock Holmes on a Case, Unrequited Love, bart’s
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-26
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:33:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,541
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28345449
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tipofmytongue/pseuds/Tipofmytongue
Summary: Sherlock and John find themselves wrapped up in a case at St. Bart’s. At the same time Sherlock seems to be more and more busy in the evenings and John discovers too late what is actually going on. And the truth breaks him.
Relationships: Sherlock Holmes/Other(s)
Kudos: 5





	A case of cardio

**Author's Note:**

> So, I guess Johnlock-shippers won’t love this story. For those who like stories about happy-Sherlock, however, this is a treat. <3

«Uncle Sherlock?»  
John let Rosie’s hand let go of his as they entered Sherlock’s bedroom. Sherlock was still asleep, but muttered a silent response at the sound of Rosie’s feet.  
«That’s a pleasant way to be woken up», Sherlock said sleepily. John entered behind his daughter, smiling at the wreck that was his very tired roommate and best friend.  
«We have a case, uncle Sherlock, and it’s an eight.» Rosie said happily.  
«Aren’t five year olds supposed to play with cars and dolls and stuff?»  
«Dolls are boring. I wanna be a detective.»  
«Our girl has set her priorities straight, that’s for sure.» Sherlock said, stretched his long figure so that his toes nearly touched the end of the bed, and then got up and out, wearing nothing but black boxers John noticed. Sherlock was ridiculously handsome, his body was impeccable, John thought and felt suddenly quite annoyed that he still hadn’t been able to rid himself of those extra kilos that had taken his tummy hostage. He cleared his throat and told Sherlock about the new case.  
The request had come from a doctor at St. Bart’s who had recently become the head of cardio. He had discovered that someone was deliberately swapping medicines. Last night he’d had to call a code as a woman’s heart had stopped and the tox-screen had shown that she’d been given several doses of narcotics instead of aspirin. 

With Rosie safely in Mrs. Hudson’s care, Sherlock and John grabbed a taxi and drove towards St. Bart’s.  
«Strange though. Swapping aspirin with dangerous narcotics. Would’ve thought a drug addict would swap the other way around.» John said as the taxi turned from Baker Street and onto Marylebone Road.  
«Unless it wasn’t a drug addict, but a killer.» Sherlock said, his mouth twisting with exasperation.  
«You think so?»  
Sherlock didn’t reply and John looked out of the foggy window. The streets outside were typically busy. John felt content. It had taken some time to get back into the regular groove and finding the perfect balance between managing a little toddler and a grown up toddler - even though Sherlock had actually changed quite a lot over the past years. The incident with Eurus, if you could call it anything as trivial as that, had made Sherlock softer around the edges somehow. He’d told John he didn’t want to put Rosie in danger. So he’d had Mycroft hire people to safety proof - not only the house - but the whole street, then to redecorate 221C, the basement, where they now took all client meetings. Rosie had been given a nice room on the same floor where John slept and went to kindergarten three blocks down from their flat. Sherlock had changed in other ways too. Even though he still blurted out insensitive comments he never did so around strangers anymore. And usually stopped himself by muttering Norbury. And he never said anything rude around Molly Hooper. The phone call where she had finally told Sherlock that she loves him had taken months for her to get over. John still didn’t know what had really happened, but after a long time of silence and Molly on sick leave, Sherlock had visited her one evening and didn’t return until the next day. Next time they met Molly she’d been her usual self again. John always wondered whether they’d had sex that night or something, because Molly was suddenly much more relaxed around Sherlock in a way she hadn’t been before. 

The taxi pulled up in front of St. Barts. Sherlock paid and they both exited the taxi and entered the familiar building. The doctor whom had made the call was a surgeon and currently saving someone’s life, according to one of the nurses at the nurses station, so John and Sherlock took a seat in the waiting area.  
«Glad we’re not them.» Sherlock said and jerked his head towards the people around them who was obviously waiting for news about their loved ones. They all looked so nervous and yet so hopeful. After 50 minutes of waiting a tall dark haired surgeon walked into the waiting area. He was still in his scrubs and walked toward a family of three who sat together within close proximity of Sherlock and John.  
«Your father will be all right.» the surgeon said, and the tension in the trio deflated and they all stood up and hugged the doctor.  
«Now listen. There were some complications. He will have to take it slowly for a good long while and he needs help and care. But he’s a tough guy, living through his fourth heart attack like that.»  
The doctor smiled as the family hugged him again and John remembered the intoxicating sensation, the physical manifestation of gratitude, that came with a positive surgical outcome. He missed it sometimes.  
One of the nurses took the family through some doors on the other side of the room and the doctor turned around and looked straight at Sherlock, then smiled and walked over.  
«Mr. Holmes and Dr. Watson. What a pleasure.» the doctor said. John noticed he was extremely handsome, probably in his late thirties. The doctor offered his hand to Sherlock who took it, eyes locked on the handsome dark ones in front of him.  
«I’m dr. Robert Stiles.»  
«Sherlock Holmes.»  
Robert Stiles then shook John’s hand who quickly introduced himself and smiled politely.  
«I had one of the nurses contacting you regarding last night’s accident. If you can call it an accident. I’m aware you’ve been informed of what it’s regarding?»  
«Yes, briefly.» Sherlock replied and they followed Robert Stiles through another set of doors which led to a hall of offices. John vaguely remembered these from his residency days. He’d slept with a couple of nurses here back then.  
«I can’t give you unsupervised access to any of the off limits areas, but I’m happy to escort you wherever you need to go in order to clear this up.» Dr. Stiles said.  
«Yes. Thank you. We will need to speak to the woman, is she, uhm, indisposed?» Sherlock asked.  
«No, she’s sitting up, but is very tired.»  
«Good. Dr. Watson will need to take her history.»  
«Good, very well, dr. Watson, she’s up in the cardio wing, third floor, room 324.»  
John nodded and asked if Sherlock would accompany him.  
«No.» Sherlock whispered so that Robert Stiles wouldn’t hear them. «I need to find out whether or not he has a motive for killing her himself. I noticed when he approached us he was acting strangely unnatural, as if he was nervous.»  
«Right. See you soon.» 

John strode away from Sherlock and found room 324 easily enough. The woman was indeed sitting in the bed, a huge scar bandaged at her chest.  
«Afternoon.» John said politely. «I’m John Watson, I’m here to investigate your cardiac arrest last night.»  
«Yes, oh, that was horrible, but Dr. Stiles brought me back, clever boy he is.»  
«Who administered your drugs yesterday?»  
«Some nurse I guess. I haven’t gotten to know them all, they make them work so hard around here. But there were three yesterday. One brought me my lunch, I had toast and tea which was lovely, and then a second one adjusted my pillows and took my temperature and the third one said Dr. Stiles wanted to give me some aspirin for my pain, because I shouldn’t have any more morphine. The third one was a woman, mousy brown hair, pretty girl.»  
«Why were you admitted in the first place?»  
«I was supposed to have a valve replaced. It’s irregular or something. I don’t now, Dr. Stiles was supposed to do my surgery today, but you know, here I am. I don’t mind though, they’re all so nice. Oh, look, that’s the nurse who gave me my drugs.»  
John turned around and looked into the face of a person he immediately did not recognize, until it dawned on him:  
«Sarah!»  
«John, wow. Hi!»  
«You’re working here now?»  
«Yes, yes, I switched jobs two years ago, was getting a bit tired of only dealing with the flu and stuff.»  
They hugged awkwardly and John felt he was genuinly happy to see her.  
«You two know each other?»  
«Yes, Mrs. Forrest, we used to go out actually.» Sarah said, smiling.  
«That’s lovely. You look like a nice couple.» 

John wrapped up the interview with Mrs. Forrest and quickly left to find Sherlock. They met in the corridor between the third and second floor.  
«Anything?» Sherlock asked curiously. «The drugs must have been switched by a person with access to the medical storage room, which you can only access with a special key card. Only the head nurses and attendings have those.»  
«Well. It can’t have been the nurse who administered the drugs anyway.» John replied.  
«Why not?»  
«Because it was Sarah.»  
«Sarah who?»  
«Sarah.»  
«Who?»  
«You know. Sarah. We went on a date and then nearly got killed by a group of Chinese circus smugglers.  
«Who?»  
«Oh come on.»  
«Just kidding. Remember her perfectly. Ish. Well. Not much more to do here. I already checked out the storage room, no traces of anything suspicious. Except some hairs in the corner and I’m taking those home to study closer.»  
«We’re in a hospital.» John replied.  
«I prefer my own microscope.»  
«Fine. I have a date, by the way.»  
«With whom?»  
«Even you’re not that moronic. With Sarah!»  
«Congrats. Try doing it right this time.» Sherlock said mockingly. On their way out of the front doors John remembered Dr. Robert Stiles.  
«What about the doctor guy? Didn’t you say it could have been him?»  
«It wasn’t him.»  
«But you said he acted strangely.»  
«It wasn’t him.»  
And then Sherlock hailed a cab and ended the conversation a bit more abrubtly than John felt was necessary. 

***

Days went by and Sherlock rarely did anything but changing between staring at the microscope or at the computer. John tried to ask if he had found out anything about the case, but the more time went by, the more agitated Sherlock became.  
«I know it’s frustrating.» John said one afternoon as he was on the floor playing with Rosie. «But maybe it was just a mistake. Someone did something, but it’s nothing more than that.»  
«I’m going out.» Sherlock said, entered his bedroom and emerged in his suit, plum colored shirt and tight black trousers. John felt his heart skip a beat at the sight.  
«Night, Rosie, I won’t be home to kiss you goodnight today, all right?»  
«All right. Nightie, uncle Sherlock.» Rosie said and smiled as Sherlock hugged her.  
«Where are you going?» John asked puzzled.  
«I need to do something.» 

And then he was gone. 

This strange behaviour continued for a couple of months, and John saw less and less of his roommate. Sherlock accepted no new cases, claiming he was still trying to solve the case from St. Bart’s. Sherlock left almost every afternoon and came back either the morning after or late in the night. One night John was waiting up for him, having tucked Rosie into bed and was watching a film on television with Sarah snoring silently in his lap.  
«Oh you’re up.» Sherlock said as he entered the livingroom.  
«Yes, wanted to see this... this film.»  
«Any good?»  
«No, it sucks arse.»  
«Why not go to bed, then?»  
«I wanted to wait for you to come home.»  
«Why?»  
John felt his heart suddenly beating faster. He didn’t understand why, but somehow he felt jealous that Sherlock was doing stuff without him. They were supposed to be best friends. They were supposed to hunt criminals together.  
«It’s just... You’ve been going out a lot lately.»  
«Oh, I just didn’t want to be in your way. With Sarah and all. Anyway, I’m off to bed. Good night.»  
Something was going on, John didn’t have the faintest idea what it was. He knew though, that if it came down to a choice between Sarah and Sherlock he’d choose Sherlock. Even if it meant giving up sex and intimacy. Dating was great, but Sherlock was his soulmate. Or something. He sat in the sofa until the film finished, not noticing a thing about it, only wondering to himself how he could be so deeply and emotionally connected to another human being without being in love. 

The next morning John, Sarah and Rosie were having breakfast together when Sherlock suddenly emerged abruptly from his bedroom.  
«There’s been another one! John! Stop eating and come!»  
«What the hell are you talking about?»  
«Another switch at St. Bart’s. Another patient.»  
«How du you -?»  
«Doesn’t matter. Stop eating.»  
Sherlock was halfway down the stairs already.  
«Can you -?» John asked Sarah pointing at his daughter who was staring at her father with large can-I-join-you eyes. Before Sarah had finished nodding John had kissed his daughter goodbye and was following Sherlock.

Back at St. Bart’s they were greeted by another doctor named Aria Ahmed.  
«Dr. Stiles will be with you shortly.»  
«Where is he?» John asked and noticed how breathtakingly beatiful Dr. Ahmed was. Her eyes were dark brown, her long hair just as dark, but her smile was full of light. He felt something stir in his underwear and discreetly took off his jacket and held it in front of the zipper of his jeans. Sherlock looked at him with a grin on his face and John felt his cheeks flush.  
Dr. Stiles came in a hurry and seemed distressed.  
«Hi, sorry... Dr. Watson. Sherlock.» He shook John’s hand and lightly patted Sherlock on the shoulder.  
«I’m sorry to say that we didn’t manage to save the patient this time. Despite all our efforts we weren’t able to recover her.»  
«Her?» John asked. So it’s a woman again.»  
«Yes.» Dr. Ahmed answered. «She was my patient. She was pregnant.»  
John thought of Rosie and felt a painful knot in his stomach.  
They walked in silence as they entered the room where the dead woman was still lying, her belly visibly large. John thought of the unborn infant inside of her who would never see the light of day. 

The case continued throughout the day, John had Sarah coming over with Rosie for a while, but they left quickly, giving Sherlock, John, Dr. Stiles and Dr. Ahmed time to work in peace. After some hours Lestrade and his team also came to investigate, by which time Sherlock had already extracted every piece of significant evidence from the scene.  
Dr. Stiles was very silent, just sitting in a corner reading charts and occationally staring over at Sherlock. Dr. Ahmed was chatting to John about their respective recidencies and John found her very interesting.  
«I actually wanted to join the army too, but then I was offered a fellowship in the States, so I went there to learn all I could about fetal medicine.» Dr. Ahmed said. John smiled, but then -  
«Could you please do the dating somewhere else? I’m trying to concentrate.» Sherlock said annoyingly, his eyes hidden behind the microscope.  
«We’ve been here for hours, Sherlock. We’re not doing anything.»  
«Then by all means, go to the cafeteria. And bring me a coffee on the way back.» 

John and Dr. Ahmed stood up to leave the room. Dr. Stiles was still reading his charts and didn’t make any sign that he wanted to follow them.  
«I’m sorry about that.» John said to Dr. Ahmed after the door behind them had closed. «He’s usually not - well, that’s a lie, he can be quite rude, but he hasn’t been in a while. Not like this.»  
«It’s okay. Are you hungry?»  
«Not really, no. Just tired.»  
«Come here, I’ll find you an empty bed.»  
She led the way through a set of doors, then through another set of doors until they were back in the hall with all the offices.  
«Good thing about being an attending, you have your own office and you can decorate it the way you want. Even with a little bed.» Dr. Ahmed said and John could swear he heard the hints in her voice. They walked a littler further and entered a door which said «Aria Ahmed, M.D. P.H.D. - fetal medicine.» Aria looked at John with a smile that made his heart melt. He took a step closer toward her.  
«Sure?» he asked.  
«Sure.» she said.  
They embraced one another, lips closed around eachother, warmth and exhileration soaring through John’s body with the power of lightning. She pushed him roughly towards the little bed in the corner. They lay back, him on top of her, and he unzipped his trousers quickly, kicked them off along with his shoes and underwear before he removed her labcoat and green clothes. Her eyes shone with lust, they were beautiful, she was beautiful. He was already hard, having felt a slight ache in his penis since he laid eyes on her earlier that morning. She was as wet as he was hard and he entered her with ease, her voice was trembling, her body was shaking and he trusted gently into her. 

They both fell asleep together in the little bed and none of them woke up until late in the evening. The clock was almost 9. John checked his texts. 11 from Sherlock, two from Sarah. John felt guilt the size of pineapples force its way throughout him. 

/I’m putting Rosie to bed now. It would be nice to know when you are coming home. I’ve got work tomorrow. Sarah

/Rosie’s asleep. Mrs. Hudson is upstairs in your flat. Talk later. Sarah. 

/Where’s my coffee? SH

/Sorry. Didn’t mean to kick you out. Don’t forget the coffee. SH

/Where are you? SH

/John, perfection manifestated, will you please come back to the lab? SH

/Dr. Stiles and I are heading out for a quick bite, I’m finished for today. See you later. SH

/JOHN! This is urgent. There’s been another one. SH

/John, where the hell are you?! SH

/Third floor again, another cardio patient. SH

/Room 332. SH

/Now. SH

/Never mind. SH

John dressed quickly, told Dr. Ahmed about Sherlock’s last texts and together they headed for the third floor. When they entered room 332 they were met Lestrade and Donovan.  
«Where’s Sherlock?» John asked.  
«He just left.» Lestrade said. «Said he was onto something.»  
John picked up the phone and called Sherlock’s number.  
«Hello?»  
«Hello, Sherlock?»  
«No, this is Robert.»  
«Robert who?»  
«Dr. Stiles.»  
«Oh, of course, yeah, where are you?»  
«In the lab. I think he needs to see you.»

John hung up and left for the lab with Dr. Ahmed by his side. The tension between them after the sex was probably so visible they might as well have gotten matching tattoos on their foreheads.  
Dr. Stiles was sitting in the corner again when they entered the lab, Sherlock was looking at something in the microscope, but John had a feeling they’d just stopped talking right before he and Dr. Ahmed had entered. Sherlock didn’t look up.  
«John, do you remember the first case we had together?»  
«Yeah, A Study in Pink. Is this familiar? Is it the same drug?»  
«Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Do you remember the comment I made regarding the state of sergeant Donovan’s knees and the vaporised perfume?»  
«Uhm.... vaguely.»  
«Good, then no further comment is needed in this scenario, but I’m glad you and Dr. Ahmed found a way to relax.»  
Dr. Stiles looked up from his charts, grinning, Dr. Ahmed look puzzled and John felt himself blushing to the colour of ketchup.  
«Uhm, I... Shut up.»  
Both Sherlock and Dr. Stiles laughed.  
«Look, John, we’ve had a breakthrough. Robert started working here last summer and there have been no incidents like this before. He hinted it might have something to do with him.»  
John looked at Dr. Stiles, the ridiculously handsome face and perfect hair. He might as well be Sherlock’s sibling.  
«So, any killers running in your familiy?» John asked, with a slight hint of hostility in his voice, which he immediately tried to comb over. «I mean, did you know any of the victims? Dated them perhaps?»  
«Oh, no, I don’t.. No. They’re patients. Two of them were my patients.»  
«Speaking of, shouldn’t you be seeing your patients?»  
«Oh, I’ve got Dr. Bano covering for me.» said Dr. Stiles.  
Suddenly Dr. Ahmed crunched, her eyes rigid.  
«Aria, what the...?!» Dr. Stiles screamed. John immediately sat down beside her, she was now lying flat on the floor. John listened for breathing sounds and checked her pulse, but both were absent.  
«She’s not breathing!» John cried and felt himself being pushed over as Dr. Stiles took his place beside Aria.  
«Move!» Dr. Stiles said and started CPR. «Get the crash cart, there’s one out in the hall.»  
Sherlock sprinted out of the door, John felt scared and annoyed at the same time, but didn’t say anything about it because Sherlock was already back with the equipment. Dr. Stiles took it, extracted the electric paddles and cried «Clear!» before John hit the charge button.  
Dr. Ahmed let out a loud breath as she revived and the three men exhaled relieved.  
«Fucking hell.» John said. «Aria, are you all right?»  
«No. Yes.. My head hurts.»  
«We’ll get you up to the ICU.» Dr. Stiles said. «Dr. Watson, will you find a wheelchair or something. There are some in the hallway.» 

Together they liftet Aria up in the wheelchair and had her installed on a bed with constant supervision. Lestrade ordered the entire supply of medicines in the hospital to be restocked and reordered - despite the fact that it would cost several million pounds and put current patients in danger. Sherlock was furious with everything, Dr. Stiles kept calm and John sat by Aria’s bedside until 3 in the night when he finally got up and left home for Baker Street. When he came home he found it to be deserted, except for Mrs. Hudson who lay on the couch sleeping heavily. His daughter was perfectly tucked in, but Sherlock was nowhere to be seen. John picked up his phone and sent two texts. 

/I’m sorry. 

/Where are you?

The first one was for Sarah, the second one was for Sherlock. He went to bed and was woken the next day by Rosie’s «daddyyyyyy!». Sherlock was still nowhere. 

John sent Rosie to kindergarten and went home to cook himself some breakfast. He didn’t hear from either Sherlock nor Sarah the whole morning, not until the clock was moving closer to 12 when Sherlock came into the flat.  
«Morning.» he said. John was sitting in his chair, reading the newspaper.  
«Where have you been?»  
«Oh, I slept at the hospital. This case is driving me mad.»  
«You could’ve answered my text though.»  
«Are you busy next Saturday?»  
«What?»  
Sherlock smiled genuinly.  
«It’s my birthday. I’m turning 40. I thought... maybe...»  
«Yeah, wow, that’s great! No, I’m not busy.»  
«Good. And bring Sarah. Or Aria. Or both. If you want.»

The week went by in a hurry. The case at St. Bart’s was taking up all their time. John was checking out if there were any connections between the patients, but they didn’t seem to have anything in common except for the fact that they were all female. After the replacement of all the hospital’s drugs and the constant supervision of the medicine storage room, had proven effective: No new murders or attempted murders had occured.  
Sherlock was researching every employee and adding up their family and relationship history with those of the victims, but no link was found there either.  
Dr. Stiles had gone back to his other patients and Aria was at home on sick leave.  
In the meanwhile Mrs. Hudson was decorating 221B for Sherlock’s birthday. It was Friday already.  
«There’s nothing... The answer is right in front of me, I can feel it, and still. Nothing!» Sherlock said angrily and started pasing around the flat while Mrs. Hudson was moving tables.  
«How many are coming tomorrow anyway?»  
«Quite few.» Sherlock said. «Are you hungry?»  
«Starving.» said John when he realised he hadn’t eaten since morning.  
«Let’s go out.» Sherlock said. 

The two of them - Rosie was asleep at home with Mrs. Hudson - went to a small Italian restaurant downtown where they were greeted with two waiters who gave them wine and menus. They ordered several small dishes each. John had a really good time, they drank wine, ate way too much and laughed together.  
«How’s Sarah?» Sherlock asked fuzzy.  
«Oh, fine. She’s fine.»  
«You didn’t tell her then.»  
«No. We weren’t.. you know. Exclusive.»  
«Right. Anyway, John, I wanted to talk to you about something.»  
Sherlock was interrupted by one of the waiters who came over to them.  
«Will the lovely couple have some dessert?» the waiter asked.  
«We’re not gay.» John blurted out.  
«My apologies.» the waiter replied.  
«We’re done anyway.» said Sherlock with a hint of coldness in his voice and the waiter disappeared. John looked at his best friend and didn’t understand this sudden change in him.  
«What happened?» John asked puzzled. «What were you going to say?»  
«Nothing. I’ll pay you back for this later.»  
Sherlock stood up and readied himself to leave. John stopped him.  
«Come on, Sherlock. Is it because I said we’re not gay? I’m just sick of people assuming we are just because we’re mates.» he chuckled. Sherlock smiled at him, but didn’t respond directly. John looked at him, and did indeed appreciate the beauty of the man he had chosen for his partner in life. He’d never thought much about how beautiful he really was, but he was indeed. He was hot. For a man. John had never had any interest in the same sex, but with so many people making assumptions about them, the thought had crossed his mind from time to time. What if Sherlock had been gay? What if they had been out for drinks one night and ended up in the sofa together back home, secretly letting one knee touch the other’s, then turning towards one another, closing their eyes before finally closing their lips -  
Yes, he had thought about it. But Sherlock wasn’t gay and John wasn’t either. Sherlock had been with Irene, he was sure of it, he had been with Janine, even though that hadn’t been for real, and John was sure Sherlock had spent that night with Molly too.  
«See you tomorrow.» Sherlock said and then he was gone from the restaurant. 

The next day Mrs. Hudson was fuzzing over them, having them help her prepare everything before the guests would arrive. Sherlock was cursing under his lips when he was being forced to clean up his mess inn the kitchen, while John had to clean out all of Rosie’s toys. Rosie was with Harry for the night, an arrangement which made John quite unsatisfied, but Sherlock had reassured him that Mycroft had secured her flat and had people on standby outside the front door.  
An hour before the party was supposed to start they both had to get ready. John went upstairs to fetch his suit while Sherlock was in the shower. When he came down again Sherlock stood wet and naked in front of the mirror, only slightly concealed by a towel which lay perfectly around his thin hips. John swallowed at the sight, and wondered for a second what Sherlock looked like underneath the annoying fabric. John cleared his throat and asked Sherlock if it was okay if he took a shower too.  
«No problem.» Sherlock replied dully as he started shaving off his three-day-beard. John undressed as privately as he could, hoping Sherlock wouldn’t noticed the inconvenient semi-erected penis he was doing his best to hide. Fuck, he thought to himself. What is this? Sherlock’s a guy. Sherlock is a heterosexual or possibly a-sexual guy. I’m an heterosexual guy. He entered the shower carefully and let the hot water wash away his worries. When he exited the shower Sherlock had withdrawn to his bedroom. 

At six o’clock the first guests arrived: Sherlock’s parents and Mycroft. Mycroft had brought Lady Smallwood and seemed more happy than John had ever seen him. The four of them hugged both John and Sherlock, congratulating the latter with his birthday. Then came Lestrade and a couple of others from Scotland Yard, then came Molly, then came several people John had never met. They introduced themselves as Peter, Thomas, Jack, William and Marion. Finally Sarah came and behind her Dr. Robert Stiles.  
«Oh hello. Sherlock invited you too?» John asked as he shook hands with the handsome doctor. Sarah was taking off her coat behind him.  
«Yes, he did. But he didn’t invite Aria though, no worries.» Dr. Stiles laughed and walked past the two of them, giving Sarah a slight nod of recognition.  
«Who’s Aria?» Sarah asked, but John cut her off.  
«Ready to party with the weirdest bunch of people you’ve ever met?»

The first fifteen minutes went quite well. Everyone was chatting with everyone and Mrs. Hudson paroled between all the guests making sure no glass was empty. John was having a blast chatting with Sherlock’s father and Elizabeth Smallwood, and had her tell him more than one secret about her frigid boyfriend.  
«Did you know he actually has a Playstation in one of his rooms? He told me he uses it for planning tactics. Most moronic thing I’ve ever heard, I saw some of the games he has. FIFA and Rayman.» John laughed out loud.  
«This is so great. Thank you, thank you. Cheers.»  
Then Sherlock stood up, tapped his glass and the room fell silent. 221B Baker Street had never looked as clean, never looked more inviting and friendly. Everyone was smiling, everyone looked happy. John watched as Sherlock took in the room, probably deduced everything about everyone in nanoseconds. He felt lucky. Lucky to have Sherlock in his life.  
«Welcome everyone.» Sherlock said cheerfully. «I’m very happy to be able to celebrate my 40th birthday with you. I didn’t want to do it myself, but someone made me do it. Evil.» Almost everyone looked at John, but John didn’t understand why. He hadn’t talked Sherlock into doing anything.  
«This someone is actually the reason I wanted to invite you. Because I couldn’t think of a better time than this one, to tell you all that Robert and I are engaged.»  
Everyone in the room cheered loudly, Sherlock’s mother started crying, Molly and Lestrade hugged one another. Sherlock took one arm around Dr. Stiles and they both looked insanely happy. John felt dizzy, there was too much information for him to prosess, too many feelings. He didn’t understand. Beside him Lestrade raised his glass and said loudly: «To Sherlock and Robert!» John shrieked, actually screamed loudly and the whole room fell into deafening silence. Every face was turned towards him and he didn’t know what to do other than leave the room as quickly as he could. His emotions and hence his actions were completely out of his control, he only knew this was too much. He entered Sherlock’s bedroom, without giving it a second thought, and closed the door behind him. He hadn’t been in here in ages. With his heart hammering wildly he closed his eyes and actually prayed this was all some sick joke on his behalf. When he opened his eyes he took in the room and noticed indeed some changes. There were two sets of duvets and pillows, a mobile charger and a hand cream were lying on the bedside table opposite of where Sherlock usually slept. There was a bag in the corner of the room filled with men’s clothes that didn’t belong to Sherlock. It dawned on him that this wasn’t a joke at all. It was very real. He didn’t know what to feel and did everything in his power to overshadow the large knot of jealousy that had taken hold of his heart. There was a knock on the door and John stepped aside for the door to be opened. In came Mycroft, Lestrade, Molly and Mrs. Hudson. Mycroft closed the door behind him with a firm hand. He was angry then.  
«What in God’s name was that all about?» Mycroft asked with his stiff upper lip as intact as ever, but with a shiver of fury resting beneath the words. John didn’t know what or how to reply. He sat down on Sherlock’s bed, felt small and insignificant in this world. Mycroft repeated his question and this time John had to give him an answer.  
«It came as a shock... that’s all. Did you all know?»  
«Know what?» Mycroft replied with a slightly more raised voice.  
«All of it... that he was...» John couldn’t bring himself to even say the word.  
«Dr. Watson, you have managed to spoil my brother’s engagement announcement, which you should probably know isn’t a decision he would make lightly, at least have the decency to finish a sentence!»  
«Easy now, Mycroft.» Lestrade said before giving John space to indeed finish his sentence.  
«... that he was gay...?»  
«Yes, of course.» Mycroft replied.  
«Yes.» said Lestrade.  
«Yes.» said Mrs. Hudson.  
«Yes.» said Molly.  
John looked at them all.  
«How did you all know?»  
Mrs. Hudson told John that Sherlock had been seing a couple of men before he’d met John, which is why she’d thought him and John had been a couple when they moved in together.  
Lestrade told John that Sherlock had slept with at least three of the guys at the Scotland Yard and also Henry Knight on their journey to Baskerville.  
Molly told John that Sherlock told her about his sexuality the night he spent at her place when he came to truly explain the I love you-phone call.  
Then Mycroft spoke.  
«And he’s been in love with you for years, Dr. Watson.»  
«Wait... what?»  
«Well, please, even you aren’t this daft. He jumped off a roof for you, then spent two years hunting bad guys in Europe to ensure your safety. He jumped into a fire for you, he killed a man for you - for Christ sake, he even made vows to you during your ridiculus wedding. How blind is it humanly possible to be?» Mycroft said with a very tense tone. John’s heart had ceased to exist, because every ounce of his body had been replaced by anger, hatred for himself and embarrasment.  
«But... he never said anything.» John managed to say and Mrs. Hudson took the reins on this one, probably mostly because she didn’t want Mycroft to erupt with fury.  
«You didn’t make it easy for him, John. Everytime the subject came up you rejected the idea. How many times have you told people you’re not gay? As if anybody cares.»  
Now even Mrs. Hudson seemed angry.  
«But... I’m not.»  
«Fine. But he is. And he’s finally happy again, after years of loving you, he’s finally moved on and met someone he can love properly.» Molly said silently. «Let him be happy, John. It’s what I’ve done.» 

Molly, Lestrade, Mycroft and Mrs. Hudson exited the bedroom leaving John with his own thoughts. He didn’t even know Sherlock was gay and now they told him he’s also been in love with him for several years. Years! But now it was too late for them because Sherlock was already in love. Engaged. Could they have been a couple? John thought about the times the idea had crossed his mind. Despite how lovely it had seemed when the fantasy extended no further than behind closed curtains in Baker Street, it never felt like a good idea out in the open. He didn’t want to be that guy. But who was that guy anyway? Who the hell was he? He didn’t know anymore. He knew only that Sherlock was his soulmate and that it couldn’t possibly be too late for them. He’d shout it out loud from the top of St. Paul’s Cathedral if necessary. He wanted Sherlock. All of him, his lips, his mouth, his body, his cock. John’s penis did a twitch at the thought of Sherlock’s cock. He thought how it would taste, how it would feel inside him, knowing that Sherlock had done this several times before with other men, and probably a lot of times with Dr. Stiles, made him feel both jealous and turned on at the same time. Embarrased and erected John started stroking himself, slowly at first, but then with fury and might and he came more quickly than ever before, semen all over his shirt.  
«Fuck.» he muttered. At the same time there was a knock on the door, but before he could tell whomever it was to go away, the door opened and Sherlock and Dr. Stiles entered together. John tried his best to hide the mess he’d made and quickly closed the button on his trousers.  
«John, we... oh... are you... oh... uhm. We can come back later.» Sherlock said. Dr. Stiles seemed embarrased by the whole scenario and together they exited the room. 

John didn’t reemerge before he was sure the party was over and the guests had left. He walked out of the bedroom door, slowly, hoping Sherlock had left as well, but when he entered the living room he found Sherlock and Dr. Stiles spooning on the couch, Sherlock curled up in Dr. Stiles’ embrace. John wanted to cry at the sight of it. The three glasses of wine he’d managed to drink before the guests had arrived threatened to exit his mouth as a jealous waterfall of vomit, but he managed to keep it inside.  
«Hello...» he muttered, and they both looked up at him.  
«John.» Sherlock said, his voice tense. «Got yourself cleaned up, have you?»  
«Sherlock, don’t...» said Dr. Stiles.  
«John. We are going to talk and you are going to tell me what the hell is going on.» Sherlock said and sat up. «And Robert’s going to be here for it, because those were his friends here tonight. They were here for us.»  
And they sat down... Sherlock in his chair, Robert on the floor in between Sherlock’s knees and John in his chair opposite them. Sherlock was holding a glass of wine in one hand and Robert’s hand in his other. Robert was sipping whiskey and smiled weakly at John, as if he really tried to be understanding. It only made John feel even worse.  
«John, Robert and I are getting married. We really are. If this reaction is related to the fact that I’m marrying a man and you have a problem with my sexuality, I hope you could speak now, so that we can make other living arrangements. I do, however, feel quite... hurt... that you have such issues with it.»  
If Sherlock had been a man who cried this would probably have been one of those moments, but he sat frozen as ice before John, his beautiful light blue eyes piercing him. John didn’t know how to explain his reaction, he didn’t want to admit his feelings in front of Dr. Stiles.  
«I was shocked... that’s all. I didn’t know you were gay.»  
«So, instead of reacting like a normal human being you made a mayhem instead. Freaks you out, this, does it? Does our hand-holding embarass you?»  
«Sherlock, no. No. I’m not homophobic. I’m... I don’t know what happened, all right. It was silly.»  
«This is stupid. Let’s just go to bed, Robert.» Sherlock said and took his lover by the hand and left for the bedroom. Dr. Stiles turned around and eyed John suspiciously before his disappeared. 

John didn’t get up from his chair before he knew the two others had properly closed the door to Sherlock’s bedroom. Then he tip toed down the hallway into the bathroom. His eyes were leaking with tears, he hurt so much he felt like he could rip his own heart out with his own hands. Just as he was about to turn on the sink he heard voices behind the closed door. Since Sherlock had always been alone in there he never knew how little sound proof the bathroom door was and he could hear everything they were saying as if they were standing around a corner. 

«... against you.»  
«Robert. I’ve made a career out of solving mysteries and that often includes a lot of lying and a lot of non existing consience. However. This is not a mystery to be solved. This is not a game. You know how much I suck at talking about feelings, but I’ve told you everything that was and everything that is. I promise, Robert. I love you.»  
«Thank you, love. I love you too.»  
«You and me, Robert.»  
John couldn’t possibly feel worse than the conversation had made him, but then he picked up his phone and saw three messages from Sarah. Damn it. He’d completely forgotten about Sarah. 

/I’m off. I don’t know what happened tonight, but this is a bit much. Sorry. 

/Can you call me tomorrow please? 

/John. I’m done. I think you care a bit more about your roommate than you want to admit to yourself. It seemed like a strange relationship back then, but this is even weirder. If you’re gay you should admit it to yourself and stop wasting people’s time. 

The bombs were being dropped all around him, his head was spinning, he didn’t want to do this anymore, he wanted to end his day, this night, this month. Then he heard noises from the bedroom and he realized the conversation had stopped and been replaced with sex. Sherlock was moaning, Dr. Stiles was grunting and the bed was making squicky noises. John’s cock immediately swelled and once again came that weird feeling of embarrasment combined with being turned on. He hated himself, but let his penis out again and started jerking off with all his might. 

***

Sherlock was close to climax. He was pumping into Robert with increased force at Robert’s request. Sherlock preferred a slower approach when he was being penetrated, but Robert liked him to be a bit rough. Tonight was no exception and Sherlock felt his whole body was on fire, feeling every nerve ending scream under Robert’s touch... on his shoulders, his back, his arse. Robert’s hands were devine, his hole was devine, everything about this felt better than any sex Sherlock had ever had.  
«God, Robert!» Sherlock cried out as he climaxed. Robert came almost at the same time, crying Sherlock’s name so loudly that it echoed in the bedroom walls. They collapsed on top of one another sweating and breathing heavily.  
«That was...»  
«Yeah...»  
«Robert?»  
«Yes?»  
«I love you. I can’t wait to be married to you.»  
«I can’t wait either.»  
«You’re the best.»  
«Yes. I know.»  
«Wait... Wait!» Sherlock suddenly sat up abruptly. «You’re the best!»  
«Well, we don’t have to push it..» Robert laughed.  
«No, no. I’m talking about the case! Doctor Bano, I screened him when I checked all employees for relations to the dead patients. He was supposed to get your job, wasn’t he? But then you came and outclassed him.» Sherlock was obsessed, he finally got it.  
«JOHN!» Sherlock cried as loudly as he could, hoping he would hear him through the ceiling. The answer came from the other side of the bathroom door. John slowly opened it and peeked through.  
«What?» Sherlock was sitting naked on top of Robert, who did his best to cover himself up. Sherlock immediately rolled down on the bed and crept up under the sheets.  
«Jesus christ, John.»  
«How the hell was I supposed to know you were naked?»  
«Easy guys.» Robert said. «John, can you please wait in the livingroom while we get dressed?»  
The two of them dressed quickly and went into the livingroom where John sat waiting in his chair. Robert put the kettle on to fix them all some tea, while Sherlock was pasing back and forth, texting someone at the same time.  
«Who are you texting?» John asked, obviously trying to steer the conversation away from what just happened in the bedroom.  
«No one. John, I’ve figured it out. Do you remember Dr. Ulysses Bano?»  
«No.»  
Robert replied: «He was supposed to get my job, only the formalities were left. At the same time I contacted St. Bart’s, because I wanted to work elsewhere, change scenery. And my merits were... well, better than Dr. Bano’s. So I was offered the head of cardio.»  
«I see....» John said. The kettle was squealing in the kitchen behind them. «You’re sure?»  
John’s eyes were piercing Sherlock’s, he could practically feel them burn. He saw so many unfamiliar expressions in them now, expressions Sherlock had only seen once before; in London Aquarium, when John had blamed Sherlock of Mary’s death. Norbury, Sherlock thought.  
«Yes, John. The first attempted murder was a heart patient. The second murder was Dr. Ahmed’s patient, but Dr. Ahmed was one of Robert’s closest friends at the hospital. The third victim was another heart patient, and the fourth was Dr. Ahmed herself. There are only two people who fit the criteria for having been behind all of these assaults, when you measure up operation scheduels, working hours, access possibilities and hair colour.» Sherlock said in his deductive tone.  
«Hair colour?» John asked.  
«Black hairs in the medical storage room.  
«And those two people are?» John tried asking.  
«Well... it’s Dr. Bano.» Sherlock said. «... and...»  
«Me.» said Robert.  
Sherlock smiled at him before he turned to John and he saw yet another helpless emotion paint its way across his best friends eyes.  
«Wait a minute...» John said.  
«No, please don’t finish that very incorrect deduction, John. Spare us, please.» Sherlock was furious. So far he’d received no support from John, and now this. Robert didn’t seem to catch what was going on. He looked puzzled from Sherlock to John and back to Sherlock again. At that point Lestrade came sprinting up the stairs and entered the room.  
«You got him then?» Lestrade asked.  
«Wait.» Sherlock said and Lestrade fell silent and took in the strangeness in the air.  
«What’s going on?» Robert asked again. John didn’t seem to want to reply himself and Sherlock couldn’t hold his frustration back any longer. He was frustrated that his best friend had such thoughts about him, frustrated at the lack of support and love, frustrated that he would always be looked upon as the socially awkward sociopath.  
«I’ll tell you what’s going on, love.» Sherlock spat. «John here thinks that I only got involved with you because I wanted to get closer to you for this case. He thinks I invited my familiy and friends to tell them about our engagement because he believed you to be directly involved with the murders. He thinks that I would actually give up my body and soul to another man because I wanted to solve a crime.» Sherlock saw John was boiling with both shock and fury. Lestrade looked at them all like he’d rather be in a cage filled with carnivorous bees than to be in the middle of this conversation.  
«How can you be sure?» John said. «How can you be sure it isn’t him?»  
Sherlock couldn’t believe John would say such a thing. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Robert stood behind him, seemingly as shocked as Sherlock was.  
«Because I love him, John.»  
Sherlock watched how his words almost physically tore John’s heart apart, it was as if they made him lose his balance.  
«You said to Irene Adler... You said always that love is a disadvantage. It’s only chemistry. It’s....»  
«Come.» Sherlock said to Robert and together with Lestrade they left the flat, left John behind. Sherlock was afraid they would never really come back to one another.  
The kettle made a final squeaking sound but the tea in it would never be poured. 

***

Dr. Bano admitted to having executed the murders and attempted murders Sherlock had told John in a text. 

/I was right about Bano. SH

Those words were the only thing John had heard from Sherlock in a week. Baker Street was empty without his best friend and John guessed he was spending the time at Robert’s house. Or probably mansion. John had tried calling and texting, but Sherlock hadn’t replied to any of them. He was going out of his mind. He’d called his former therapist and asked her if she could tell him flat out why he was feeling like this, why he couldn’t be happy for his best friend.  
«Are you scared you won’t be able to work together anymore?» the therapist had asked, but John knew that his own marriage hadn’t prevented him from solving cases with Sherlock.  
«Are you scared he’ll move out?» the therapist had added. But no, John wasn’t afraid Sherlock would ever leave Baker Street, because he wouldn’t. Not ever.  
«Are you feeling like this because you’re in love with him?» the therapist had asked then. 

So John had succumbed to the fact that he did love Sherlock. Really, really loved him, but there was nothing he could do about it. He’d missed his chance. However, if Sherlock could share a platonic life with a man he loved unrecruitedly for years, so could John. He could put the romantic feelings aside and just be Sherlock’s friend. If that meant being Dr. Stiles’.... Robert’s friend too, then so be it.

/Hi Aria  
Sorry you haven’t heard from me in i while.  
It’s been... chaotic.  
You wouldn’t happen to have Dr. Stiles’ home address?  
Hope you’re well.  
John Watson 

He sent the text, desperate for a reply. In the meanwhile he put the kettle on and went to the bathroom to take a shower. 

Freshly clean, dressed and ready for tea he checked his phone. Aria had replied. 

/Hi John  
I didn’t expect you to linger  
but it was nice hearing from you  
Robert lives in Hampstead,  
I don’t remember the address  
Would be nice seeing you again sometime  
xo

With Rosie safely in kindergarten John left the house and jumped onto a bus which headed for Oxford Street. Nearby Marble Arch he found another bus which would take him to Hampstead. He chose a seat in the rear end where he sat peacefully and watched London pass by outside the window. He didn’t frequently travel to Hampstead. Once they’d been there for a case regarding a doll stuffed with eyes and ears, that was found in a playground. That had been one of the most morbid ones they’d ever encountered. John had blogged about it and named the case «The doll house» - an expensive earring in one of the ears had led them to the registry in Tiffany’s, which led them further to one of the largest mansions in Hampstead where they found three bodies in the basement, put there by a former employee of the woman who owned the diamond from Tiffany’s. Jealousy had been his motive. It was always jealousy. John thought about how he felt the last night he saw Sherlock. How the jealousy almost tore him to shreds. He could easily understand how someone could be driven to kill because of jealousy.  
The bus came to a halt in the tiny centre of Hampstead. John had found Robert’s address on his phone, got off the bus and started following the little dot on the screen. Up a small road, then to the right, then right again, he passed palms and expensive black cars and thought Robert must be quite well off, well, obviously he was, he was head of cardio at Bart’s, then turned up a tiny street and stood before number 8. «Dr. Robert Stiles» was printed in black letters on a marbor plate beside the entrance. He buzzed the door bell and waited.  
Two minutes went by and he was about to turn and walk away when the door was opened by the impeccable Robert Stiles, wearing nothing but a white morning robe.  
«John. Hello.» Robert said perplexed.  
«Ehm. Hi. Sorry. Is... ehm... Sherlock here?»  
«Yes he is.»  
«Can I come in, please?»  
«Actually, I wanted to talk to you.» Robert said. John’s heart started beating a little faster.  
«Yeah... good.»  
Robert stepped outside and closed the front door behind him.  
«John. I obviously understand you and Sherlock have a very special relationship. I know that you are partners in pretty much every aspect of life that doesn’t involve sex.»  
John clinched at the word sex and it didn’t go unnoticed by.  
«But.... I also know Sherlock had feelings for you for a while. However, water under the bridge, but I need to know where you stand in all this. I have a feeling you really don’t like me all that much.»  
John didn’t know what to reply. He stood there in front of Sherlock’s boyfriend, fiancée, and wondered how the hell he was going to navigate around this.  
«I... Dr. Stiles...»  
«Robert.»  
«Robert... I didn’t know anything. About anything. I didn’t even know Sherlock’s gay. Everyone around us knew. I didn’t. And then everything kind of crushed down on me somehow.»  
«Does it matter?»  
«Does what matter?»  
«That Sherlock’s homosexual. Does it matter?»  
«Of course it matters.»  
«Why?»  
«Because.... because...»  
«You’re in love with him.»  
Robert’s words echoed in John’s ears. They were wrong. They sounded unfamiliar, like they were being said by a voice ten miles away. But yet, they were so true they hacked away into his heart. So wrong, so right.  
«I think I am. I didn’t know until I knew.» John finally managed to say. The door behind Robert opened and Sherlock appeared, wearing a similar white morning robe.  
«Morning John.» said the hoarse voice of his sleepy friend, his pale skin alight in the morning sunlight, revealing a hickey on his neck which made John want to run for it.  
«Sherlock.» Dr. Stiles said.  
«You heard.» John followed.  
«Yes. I heard.»  
Dr. Stiles stood up. John saw that he was nervous, but unable to articulate his nervousness, but Sherlock, being Sherlock, could read him like an open book.  
«Robert, we talked about this. You know how I felt before and you know how I feel now. That won’t change, regardless of this.» Then he adressed John. «I’m sorry, John. I’m not in love with you anymore.»  
John felt a cold bucket of ice was being thrown at his person, his being, all that made him the man he was. But who was he anyway? A grown man who hadn’t wanted to admit his true feelings until he had been backed into a tight corner of childishness and idiocy? A man who was about to lose his best friend because he was being imbesile and moronic? Yes, that was exactly who he was.  
«Guys. I’m truly sorry for causing you all this trouble. I truly am. I’ll move on from this, I swear, just don’t dismiss me as your friend, Sherlock. Please.»  
Sherlock didn’t move. The white robe lay perfectly around his figure, like an angel’s clothing. John swallowed in anticipation, but it was the third party who broke the silence.  
«Is ten o’clock too early for drinks?» Robert said with a light laugh. 

***

John was standing nervous on the podium which was situated directly under the largest, most precious cherry tree in the park and this week it blossomed with small pink flowers. He was listening to the beautiful violin music erupting from the loudspeakers. John watched as his daughter walked down the aisle in the middle of the rows of chairs in which people he both knew and didn’t knew sat in anticipation. They all made touched sounds as the little girl strolled happily past them, leaving a trail of rose petals behind her. She found her way up to her father and then everyone stood up. From the little path behind them all emerged Sherlock and Robert, hand in hand, so handsome in their matching suits. A large peacock walked in the background, completing the image further. It was all so lovely. John felt a tiny sensation of sorrow in his chest at what could have been, but during the past year he had come to terms with it. He would probably always love Sherlock, but he had Rosie, and he had Dr. Ahmed. Aria. She had filled his life with such joy ever since he reconnected with her after their tiny fling at the hospital. All was lovely. Sherlock and Robert passed Mycroft, Mrs. Hudson, Molly, Lestrade, Mike, Sherlock’s parents on one side, and a bunch of way too good-looking people on the other side, obviously the handsome Stiles familiy. They ended up on the podium, hand in hand, smiling at each other, and John knew that his best friend had found true happiness.  
And as the minister finished his speech little Rosie took the reigns from the minister and said in her high-pitched little voice that could melt tundras:  
«Kiss him, Uncle Sherlock. Kiss him!» The two grooms kissed and all the guests stood up in a major applause. John winked at Aria who was seated next to Mike Stamford. This would be the night he would propose to her. He just knew it.

**Author's Note:**

> English is my second language, sorry for lack of perfection.


End file.
